


Wake Up

by givemeunicorns



Series: CritRole hurt/comfort Collection [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Platonic Soulmates, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 03:00:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20885021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givemeunicorns/pseuds/givemeunicorns
Summary: More than anything in the world, Yasha wants her friend back. More than anything in the world, Molly wants to come back to her.For Whumptober day 2: Wake Up( alternate prompt)





	Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm not FULLY caught up on Critical Role but I'm doing my best with what I know lol.

Breeze on his face. Somewhere, far off the sound of voices.

It had been quiet here a long time, his sleep endless, dreamless. But now, the land was coming alive, and him with it.

_ Wake up _whispered the moon, the dry autumn wind through the leaves, _There is much work yet to be done._

He weren't sure he wanted to. This place was safe, warm, quiet. The place beyond this was not, that much he knew, if not much else. The place beyond this was fight and fear. The place beyond this was blood tragedy.

_ Is there goodness too? Is there not love?_

It was the earth that spoke this time, her voice kind, held as he was in her clawing grasp.

_ Wake up_

This was not the clever voice of the moon or the gentle coaxing of the earth, this was a command, rumbling through his bones, the sharp ozone smell of a storm on the wind. 

Something shocked through his body, a white hot pain, shuttering through his core, radiating out from his chest. Air trying to push through punctured lungs and shattered ribs. Blood trying to pump through a destroyed heart. It hurt. It burned. Nothing could be worse than this. Nothing could be worth this.

Somewhere, far away her head the ruffle of feathers, some thing trying to tug him back, to keep him in the grave. The pain faded for a moment, but awareness stayed. There was rain on his face, the thunder rumbling above and inside him. The earth was pushing at him, the gentle embrace of a mother.

_ Wake up_

The new voice, achingly familiar. Not the cloying voice of the moon, or the motherly tones of the earth, or commanding sound of the storm. This one was human, broken, pleading, speaking to his soul. Memory tugged at him, a life of stories filling his mind. Her smile. The smell of flowers. Hard rough hands and a gentle, sweet smile. An empty place in him, filled with the pieces of her. For the first time since awareness feel upon him, he wanted to fight, wanted to reach for her, wanted to call back to her, but his body wouldn't listen, wouldn't respond. The flapping of wings, the ruffle of feathers grew louder, deafening.

_ Please, Molly, please wake up._

Her voice was shattered and he swore he could feel hands on his skin, the patter of rain. Her voice pressed in close, a breath against his lips, pressure on his forehead and the sides of his face.

“Please come back to me Molly. You are part of me and I need you. Please.”

The rain on his face was warm. No, not rain, he realized. Tears. She was crying. That hurt him, worse than the pain of a waking body. So he pushed, he drug himself through the dusty cobwebs of his own mind. Molly. Mollymauk. That had been his name, was his name.

The pain surged through him again, sharper than before, and this time he embraced it, clung to it with bloody fingertips and clawed himself, inch by inch, out of the grave. His heart stuttered in his chest, trying valiantly to beat after resting so long in broken stillness.

Her warmth disappeared and he heard another voice, this deep and unfamiliar.

“I'm sorry, I've done all I can. He's gone.”

_ No! I'm here!_ He wanted to shout but his lungs wouldn't hold air.

“He just needs time,” she pleaded, her voice so small that it made him ache.

“I think Caduceus is right,” another voice answered, familiar but the accent not quite right, “we tried, same as he would have done for any of us.”

Her palm rested on his chest. He wanted to scream, he was close, he could feel her, the warmth of her skin on his. Anger burned underneath the desperation. He remembered little of his life before, even less of the life before that but he knew he'd been a decent person. Not a good person perhaps, but a decent one, one who fought for something, one who loved someone. Loved someone in a way he had not know it was possible to love, beyond friendship, beyond the romantic, to love someone in a way that lays your soul bare. She needed him now. The grave hadn't held him down when he'd been a mystery, when he'd been empty and had nothing, and he'd be damned if he'd let it hold him down now.

The sound of a sob. The disappearance of her warmth and the sound of tears and bodies moving.

_ WAKE UP _he screamed at himself _WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP_

He reached for her, desperately.

And his fingers closed around her wrist. Breath rattled through his broken chest, life suffusing into his flesh again. He opened his mouth tasted rain, and blood and dirt.

The weight of her was there suddenly, sheltering him from the rain, his face cradled in her hands, his fingers still weakly curled around her wrist.

“Molly?”

“Yasha,” he whispered, little more that a rattling exhale.

He forced his eyes to open. God's he was so tired, but he needed to see her. Needed her to see him. It took all his strength to lift his eyelids. She's beautiful as he remembered, tenderness wrapped in a hard muscle and bone, watching him with her two toned eyes, her tear stained cheeks, her face paint smeared, her bright smile. If he could have bottled sweetness of that smile, he'd drink it all the days of his life.

“You came back,” she sobbed, letting her head drop into the curve of his shoulder, “you came back.”

He turned his head, pressed a kiss into her hair, despite the pain of the muscles as he moved, the burning ache in his chest, the creak of bones as breathed. For her, it was worth it.


End file.
